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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886875">Walk Walk Fashion Babey</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honey_Dewey/pseuds/Honey_Dewey'>Honey_Dewey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, Established Relationship, Fluff, Geralt is a good dad, Jaskier is a fashion disaster, M/M, Modern AU, Oh and some implied smut and swearing, Paramedic Geralt, Yennifer and Triss are mentioned, almost entirely fluff, except for a bit of angst, hence the teen and up rating</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:34:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honey_Dewey/pseuds/Honey_Dewey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten mini stories featuring some... questionable fashion choices on Jaskier’s part.</p><p>Now featuring eight new stories with Geralt crushing gender roles and looking good while he does it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>244</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>That title was absolutely a joke at first but I kept it because it fit. </p><p>So yeah! My first Witcher story! I’ve been in the fandom for a few months now, and figured I should probably post something. </p><p>This was absolutely based on a Tumblr post I saw which featured ten very fun outfits all drawn on Jaskier. I just couldn’t resist writing them in various scenarios. </p><p>Here’s the link to the artist who posted the drawings, if you want a visual to these outfits. (You may have to scroll): </p><p>https://silvipeppers.tumblr.com/</p><p>Anyways, there’s a violence and mild homophobia warning for one of the stories, but I’ll be sure to mark it so you can see it. Happy reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What in the actual fuck are you wearing?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier jumped a bit as Geralt entered their bedroom, trying to figure out why it was taking him so damn long to get dressed. Turns out, Jaskier was examining himself in the mirror. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Jaskier looked down. “I think it’s fun!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The outfit in question was an old black sweater with a thick pink stripe right across Jaskier’s biceps and chest, bordered by a thin yellow stripe and a thicker black and white checkered stripe. Written in what was obviously hand drawn cursive, was ‘Cintra.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His pants were no better. Pink and vertically striped, they only came midway down his calf, revealing black and white socks and white sneakers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighed. “I am not taking you out like that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier stuck his tongue out. “Well fuck you too,” he grumbled. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Unsurprisingly, Jaskier didn’t change. Instead, he skipped out of the house before Geralt could truly force him to put on something else, eager to head to their destination. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know it’s only a football game,” Geralt pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Yeah but it’s her first time cheering!” He said.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now it was Geralt’s turn to roll his eyes. His adopted daughter Ciri had her first football game today, only she wasn’t a player. She was a cheerleader. “Is that why you’ve painted the name of her school on your sweater?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep!” Jaskier was grinning far too wide as they got out of the car. “This is gonna be so much fun!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Truthfully, the game did seem like it was going to be fun. Geralt got food from a wayward food truck, and Jaskier marveled at how far the school was willing to go for a football game. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“First one of the year,” Geralt pointed out, passing Jaskier his hot dog. “And they’re playing their rival.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The game itself was very close up until halftime. Geralt had never been one for football, but he knew the rules. On the other hand, Jaskier knew next to nothing, but he cheered all the same, and did attempt to listen when Geralt explained the most recent play. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally, halftime. The Cintra high schoolband was out, and along with them came the cheerleaders. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now, it was Jaskier’s turn to explain to Geralt. He eagerly gushed over the girl’s form, talking a mile a minute about how hard those moves were. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And there’s Ciri!” He said happily. “You never told me she was a flyer!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt’s stomach twisted at the sight of his daughter being thrown into the air, but he also knew that this was safe. Well. Kind of safe. One of the other girls had destroyed her ankle at a practice, but Ciri had said she’d make a full recovery. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rest of the game dragged on. Despite the halftime show, Cintra’s team was destroyed in the second half. The final score was a crushing 17 to 38, Nilfgaard High School as the victors. And yet...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dad! Jaskier!” Ciri came running up to the car, still in her cheer uniform. If she was upset about Cintra losing the game, she didn’t show it. “Hey!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After hugs were exchanged, Ciri crawled into the backseat, stretching out and hissing. “I think I landed wrong,” she murmured. “That’s gonna need ice.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier sighed. “I’ll make you a bag when we get home,” he promised. “Sorry Cintra lost.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We expected it,” Ciri said loosely, pulling her left shoe off and propping her foot up on the window. “By the way, I saw you in the crowd.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Really?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah!” Ciri laughed. “What the hell are you wearing?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After Ciri’s cheer accident, Geralt had deemed her ankle sprained, and with the sprain came the required bed rest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m bored!” Ciri called into the kitchen. She was settled on the couch, her foot propped up on a few pillows. “Dad, do we have those ridiculously good crackers or did Jaskier eat all of them again?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey! I’m right here! Geralt’s still at work,” Jaskier said, poking his head out of the kitchen. “And no, I didn’t eat all the crackers.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They ate on the couch together, waiting for Geralt to come home from work. It was awfully dull. The TV didn’t have anything interesting, and Ciri was starting to get restless. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tell ya what!” Jaskier said finally. “I’ve been meaning to go through my old clothes. Your father keeps bugging me to get rid of some stuff. Wanna help me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And so, Jaskier lugged a rubbermade tub out into the living room, popping the lid and beginning to dig through the clothes inside. Some things, like the pink faux fur jacket, were kept without hesitation. Other things, like the awful sweater that looked like an arcade floor, were tossed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You did not wear this!” Ciri said, lifting a pair of pink, blue, teal, and orange tattersall patterned overalls out of the tub. “It looks like something a toddler would wear!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my dear Ciri,” Jaskier snatched the overalls from her, hugging them to his chest defensively. “I absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">rocked</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> these overalls.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Prove it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier snorted, digging through the tub until he found a teal shirt with cap sleeves. “Very well,” he said, before heading off to the bathroom to change. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While he was in there, Geralt happened to come home. He took one look around the living room and sighed. “What’s he doing?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I asked him to prove that he looked good in pink plaid overalls.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You made a mistake,” Geralt decided, pulling his hair out of its ponytail and falling onto the couch. He hadn’t bothered to get changed after work, so he’d come home in his scrubs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, Jaskier came out of the bathroom, smiling triumphantly. “Told you!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Truthfully, he could’ve looked worse. The shorts showed off his legs, and the teal in the shirt made his eyes appear more green than they actually were. However, that didn’t stop him from looking exactly as Ciri had pictured. Like a toddler. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She burst into laughter, and Jaskier fueled the fire by striking an exaggerated pose. Geralt smiled, eyeing his boyfriend. “You look absolutely ridiculous.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why thank you dear heart,” Jaskier plopped down in Geralt’s lap. “I think I look ravishing.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm,” Geralt hummed, thumbing over a mark on Jaskier’s inner thigh. “Sure you do.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two weeks after the overalls incident, at which Ciri still laughed, Jaskier was going through his clothes, looking for something easy to put on for a late night trip to the fridge. Geralt was half asleep, despite their, well, rigorous exercise a few minutes ago. So Jaskier volunteered to get water before he too collapsed on the bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He finally found a decent hoodie to zip over his bare chest, reveling in the softness of the bubblegum pink faux fur. Paired with the light blue booty shorts with ‘juicy’ written across the ass that he’d picked up off the floor, this outfit was really a statement. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Padding silently to the kitchen, Jaskier pulled two glasses out and filled them with water, trying to be as silent as possible. Geralt was touchy when he was half asleep, so any noise could fully wake him up again. And Jaskier knew all too well how hard it was to get Geralt to sleep. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Babe,” The growling voice behind him made him wince. He could’ve sworn he was silent as the grave, and yet, a very warm and very shirtless Geralt was coming up behind him, wrapping him in a hug. “What the fuck is this?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Water?” Jaskier hummed hesitantly, turning and facing Geralt. “Thought you might want it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I meant those shorts.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Truthfully, the shorts had been a drunken impulse buy. They were on sale and Jaskier was tipsy when he’d bought them. It hadn’t helped that his band mate had been equally tipsy, and had bought a matching pair in purple. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh,” Jaskier shrugged. “They were on the floor, and I didn’t really want to walk out here without pants. So I just put on the first thing I grabbed.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighed, burying his face into Jaskier’s furry shoulder. “‘M not even gonna ask about the jacket.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good idea,” Jaskier decided. The jacket had been found at a thrift store, and teenage Jaskier had loved it too much to let it go. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Back to bed?” Geralt asked. “I have a double tomorrow.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier winced. “It’s okay. I can pick Ciri up and take her to dinner. You know she loves my shows.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt nodded. “What did I do to deserve you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Found me in a dumpster,” Jaskier points out softly. “C’mon, let’s go back to bed.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier fiddled with the oversized pom-pom on Madeleine’s hat, surprisingly tired. It was only midnight, why the hell did he feel like his entire body was being weighed down with sandbags? He could still remember a time when he could go thrifting with Madeleine until sunrise, so it was a surprise that his body was deciding to tap out now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How about this?” Madeleine held up a truly horrendous pair of pants. White and green vertical stripes with mustard yellow knee pads lined in lace and black ribbon. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt would have an aneurysm if I brought those home,” Jaskier decided firmly. “Hand them over.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Madeleine laughed, passing the frankly offensive pants to Jaskier. “You okay? You seem tired.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I feel tired,” Jaskier moaned. “I think I’m getting old.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Madeleine scoffed, tossing a white cropped knitted sweater with teal and purple accents into Jaskier’s basket. “You are not getting old.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Am too!” Jaskier pouted. “I found a grey hair the other day!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, so that must mean Geralt’s old as shit,” Madeleine didn’t even look at Jaskier as she headed towards the shoes. “After all, isn’t he fully grey?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier groaned. “That’s different.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mhm, sure it is,” Madeleine picked up a chunky pair of holographic silver heeled ankle boots. “Are these your size?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier ended up home at two twenty seven in the morning, utterly exhausted, but very happy with his purchases. However, when he showed Geralt what he bought the next morning, </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What,” Geralt deadpanned. “In the hell,” he pointed to Jaskier’s bag. “Are those?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier pulled out the striped pants, smiling widely. “I like them.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ciri looked up, nearly choking on her cereal as she took in Jaskier’s new pants. “What the fuck?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Language!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ciri just shook her head. “No, I think this is called for.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Agreed.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt!” Jaskier whined. “You don’t like them?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt chugged the last half of his second mug of coffee, a truly dead expression on his face. “If I don’t set them on fire, you’ll be lucky.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is bullshit!” Jaskier groaned. He was on his back, feet up in the air. Geralt had bribed him into coming to the gym, and Jaskier wasn’t exactly happy about it. “Your workout is garbage.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So go do your own,” Geralt grumbled. “I’m sure you can find something to satiate you until I finish.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier stood up, making sure he sauntered a bit more than usual as he left. And if he smiled when Geralt muttered out a strained ‘fuck,’ well, that was his business. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A half an hour later, Geralt was finished with his workout, but Jaskier was nowhere to be found. It was bizarre. Usually, Geralt would look for the brightest, most obnoxious color in the room, and it was often Jaskier wearing it. But now, the sunshine yellow shorts were stubbornly evading him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, he did find his boyfriend. He had finally given up, concluding that Jaskier would text him at one point, and went to go shower. As he passed the exercise classes, he saw something that made him stop dead in his tracks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier was taking a yoga class. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And he was damn good at it too, Geralt decided, watching him move fluidly through poses. As he rose into a firm warrior two, Geralt watched his abs tense underneath his white crop top with the smiling sun on the front. It was enough to make his face flush red as he quickly walked off to take a cold shower. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he finished, he found Jaskier tugging on his knee high yellow socks and multi colored shoes, chatting animatedly to a shorter woman. As Geralt came up to him, he smiled and waved. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt!” Jaskier gestured him over. “I’ve decided you absolutely have to bring me back to the gym more often. Did you know they offer hot yoga?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I did now,” Geralt hummed. “C’mon. I have a shift later, so we need to go home.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier pouted, but nodded. “Alright. See you soon!” He said to the woman he’d been talking to. She waved to them as they left. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well that was fun!” Jaskier said, falling gracelessly into the car. “I should bring Ciri. She’d like it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm,” Geralt didn’t say anything, merely kept driving, keeping his focus on the road. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier’s smirk grew. “And maybe one day, I can get you to take a class with me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt snorted. “In your dreams.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Absolutely not,” Geralt said, pushing Jaskier back into the bed. “I told you to rest while I was gone, and you didn’t. So now, apparently, I have to baby you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you blame me?” Jaskier said, wincing at the nasally, clogged sound to his voice. “I was bored!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn’t say anything. Instead, he went to their shared bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, digging around until he found what he needed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take this,” he said, putting a bottle of NyQuil on the bedside table. “And stay.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He trusted Jaskier to take the medicine, and he did, making a face at the size of the capsules. “We need better NyQuil!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt rolled his eyes from the kitchen. “The only other stuff is the liquid kind!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thankfully, Jaskier wasn’t sick enough to throw up, but Geralt wanted to get more liquids in him just in case. So, he poured a cup of bright orange Gatorade for his boyfriend, bring it to him along with a bowl of applesauce and some salted crackers. “Drink all of that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes nurse,” Jaskier grumbles, picking up the cup with shaking hands. “Tell me about work.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighed. He didn’t enjoy bringing his work life home. To him, his job was brutal and unforgiving, and to bring that into this house would be an instant disaster. But Jaskier had asked, so Geralt made himself comfortable on the bed and began to think. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I had to take a ride out west,” Geralt said finally. “Long ass ride, but worth it. Turns out a woman had gone into labor a week early, and wasn’t able to get to the hospital. So, between me, Yenn, Eskel, and Triss, we delivered her kid in the bathtub. First time I’ve ever seen a birth, and hopefully it’s my last.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier nodded, picking at the red drawstring on his shorts. If Geralt didn’t know better, he’d have thought Jaskier cut those heinous striped pants he’d bought. But those same pants were laying in an unwashed pile on the floor, so it seemed Jaskier had simply bought green and white striped shorts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re sweating,” Geralt fretted, seeing stains bloom on Jaskier’s shirt. He stood from the bed and grabbed the thermometer from the bedside table. “Open.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier obeyed, allowing Geralt to stick the thermometer under his tongue. As he waited, Geralt found his boyfriend a new shirt. It was the one on top of the freshly washed basket of clothes, so naturally, it didn’t match in the slightest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As Jaskier pulled the loose teal t-shirt over his head, Geralt read the number displayed on the thermometer. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, so you’re absolutely going nowhere for the next week, at least.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What!” Jaskier whined, wiggling his yellow socked feet. “But I have a show this weekend.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt promptly showed him his temperature of 102.5. “Not anymore.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jask?” Ciri poked her head into the living room, a bit nervous sounding. “Can I ask you something?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier, who had been reading on the couch, looked up. “‘Sup?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ciri shuffled into the living room, fidgeting with her phone. “I want to go out.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay?” Jaskier shut his book, giving Ciri his full attention. “What’s wrong little dove? You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wanna go see a movie!” Ciri blurted, quickly and loudly. “But-“ she sighed. “But it’s rated R.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now she had Jaskier’s curiosity as well as his attention. “What movie?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ciri passed her phone over, showing him the movie details. It was a historical movie, filled with fantasy, swords, and destiny. Rated R for violence and nudity. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, sure,” Jaskier handed her phone back. “I’ll take you. Looks fun.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was as if Ciri had been expecting more of a fight. Instead, Jaskier shooed her off to get dressed while he did the same. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Picking clothes for Jaskier was, as always, a challenge. It was sunny and warm out, but not hot enough for shorts. He pulled out a ripped pair of light jeans and put them on, looking for a shirt to wear with them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thankfully, it didn’t take long. A yellow and white striped tank top met his eye, and he immediately began the fun struggle past the thin spaghetti straps and into the shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ciri was waiting for him by the door, smiling as he haphazardly tied the laces on his pink shoes. “You look nice,” she said. “For a minute, I thought you’d wear that god awful crab sweater you showed me yesterday.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excuse you, that crab sweater is the height of fashion,” Jaskier grabbed his keys and smiled. “Let’s go see that movie.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As expected, the movie was horribly violent. Jaskier and Ciri were the only two in the theater, so neither felt bad when Jaskier groaned at the historical inaccuracies or Ciri squeaked at the overwhelming amount of blood on screen. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That was a good one,” she said as they walked out. “I liked it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier nodded, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes as they headed towards the shopping center across the parking lot. “Me too. Lunch?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They ended up getting ‘lunch’ at the local frozen yogurt place. Ciri went more for the fruity flavors, like cherries and raspberries, whereas Jaskier put so many gummies on his that Ciri joked he might turn into a gummy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That,” Jaskier said, taking a shark gummy off the top and eating it with a smile. “Would be the absolute best way to go.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>(This is the story with the violence and the homophobia. You have been warned.)</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt,” Jaskier said, looking up as his boyfriend walked through the door. “You’re home!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am,” Geralt agreed hesitantly. “What’s going on?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, nothing,” Jaskier promised, tugging Geralt into the kitchen. “Nothing at all. Just that Yenn agreed to take Ciri tonight and I made a lovely dinner so we could celebrate our anniversary.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt was now properly confused. “Our anniversary is on New Years.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know,” Jaskier said. “But the anniversary of when he met is today. In four hours, to be exact.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighed. “Is that why you’ve worn that?” He said, gesturing to the sweater. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier smiled, smoothing his hands down the worn out pink fabric with the knitted red crab on the front. “Maybe.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t believe it’s lasted this long,” Geralt hummed, sitting at the kitchen table and watching Jaskier mess around with a pot on the stove.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Agreed,” Jaskier said, happily remembering exactly what had happened last time he’d worn this sweater.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Two years ago</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier was drunk. Good and proper drunk. He’d been playing at a small venue downtown, where the buildings were all brick and the alleyways were darker than the night sky. Madeleine had abandoned him for the warm comfort of her bed, but Jaskier had wanted to play another few songs. Of course, with the songs came the shots, and suddenly he was distantly worried about passing out on the street as he staggered out of the bar. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Which was when someone shot him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bullet hadn’t hit anywhere important, only grazed his upper arm, but fuck did it hurt. Jaskier, in all his drunken glory, went down and stayed down as two burly men dragged him into the nearest alley and threw him into a dumpster, grumbling some very choice slurs about the bar Jaskier had been frequenting, the clothes he was wearing, and the men he had been kissing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He lay in the dumpster, suddenly sure that this would be his last time seeing the stars. Being shot in an apparent hate crime was a surprisingly sobering event, and even though he was definitely still drunk, Jaskier felt like he’d been doused in cold water and shocked back into awareness. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sirens echoed down the alley, the lights painting the brick a vibrant red. Jaskier groaned, his head pounding. He had no idea how long he’d been laying inthe dumpster. His arm didn’t hurt terribly anymore, which was worrying. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sir?” A gruff voice pulled him towards reality, and he forced his eyes to focus so he could see the handsome sounding stranger. “Can you hear me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh yeah,” Jaskier slurred, reminding himself exactly how many drinks he’d had. “Clear as day.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A few more people came over, and a rag was placed over Jaskier’s eyes. He could feel being lifted onto a stretcher and into an ambulance, but the rag wasn’t pulled away until after his arm had been properly taken care of. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ho boy!” Jaskier groaned as the ambulance suddenly seemed to fill with light. “That is, wow. That is bright.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry,” the same deep voice that had originally saved him responded. “Can you see me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier looked up, squinting rather heavily. The stranger came into view, and Jaskier swallowed thickly. He was tall and muscular, and very very handsome. Not handsome in the cute boyish way Jaskier considered himself handsome, but more of a chiseled and rough handsome. He wore typical burgundy scrubs, but the most peculiar thing about him was his hair. It would’ve been the honey yellow shade of his eyes, but Jaskier had definitely seen people with eyes so hazel they may as well be called gold. No, what made this stranger so unique looking was the snowy white shade of his hair. Not grey, not pale blond, but a perfect, near pristine white. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Woah,” Jaskier said, voice raspy. “You’re beautiful.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man’s face turned pink as he put the rag away. “So you can see.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes I can,” Jaskier mumbled. “And I seem to be blessed with an angel here to save me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just a paramedic.” The man seemed nervous, as if Jaskier had embarrassed him. “What’s your name?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier groaned. “Legal?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Preferably.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Julian Pankratz,” Jaskier let his head fall back, wondering for a second why the stretcher was so damn uncomfortable. “But you can call me Jaskier.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man nodded. “My name is Geralt. Can I ask you a few questions? Just to see if you’re coherent.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shoot.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sat down, perching on the edge of a bench. “What year is it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier huffed. “I’m not that drunk!” He said indignantly. “Anything harder?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you have any pets?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nope.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Girlfriend?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck no.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Boyfriend?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier snorted. “I’ve got some male friends with benefits.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighed. “You really haven’t got much,” he decided under his breath. “But you do seem coherent, so please tell me what the hell you’re wearing.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier looked down at his clothes. He did dress a bit like a drunk toddler, especially when he did shows. Right now, he had on a slightly ruined pink sweater with a knitted crab on the front, an off white skirt with muted purple and green triangles, a pair of bright red leggings with black worm-like shapes, and a pair of black knee high boots. “I like it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm,” Geralt grumbled. “Are you drunk?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wasn’t when I got dressed, if that’s what you’re asking.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was,” Geralt looked up as the ambulance stopped. “We’re here.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier watched the doors open and two men pull the stretcher out. “Will I ever see you again?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt snorted softly. “Let’s hope not.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier you are not leaving the house like that!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not?” Jaskier shouted, putting his hands on his hips and stomping his foot.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt put his head into his hands. “Because,” he said, considerably calmer than Jaskier. “It’s November. That skirt is sheer. You will freeze.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh,” Jaskier looked down. He hadn’t exactly thought about that. Truthfully, he should change. Even if he looked very good in his ankle length sheer black skirt and oversized pink MTV sweater. “I mean, we’ll be inside the whole time, right?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I suppose,” Geralt mumbled. “What shoes are you wearing?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier picked his shoes up, proudly showing off the three and a half inch leopard print heels. “Ciri got these for me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighed. “Of course she’s feeding your addiction.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think they’re cute!” Jaskier said, picking his foot up and putting his left shoe on. “And they’re not terribly uncomfortable.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” Geralt shrugged. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was rare the pair of them got a date night, between Geralt’s work, Ciri, and Jaskier’s shows, they got to go on dates about once a month, if they were lucky. Tonight was a special one. Geralt had two tickets to a musical, courtesy of a work friend who couldn’t go. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit,” Jaskier hissed as soon as the front door opened. “Oh fuck.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt smothered a grin as Jaskier got into the car. He was dressed sensibly, in a warm black coat and pants. However, he wasn’t about to deny the fact that Jaskier’s legs looked damn good in that skirt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here,” he maneuvered out of his coat, tossing it over Jaskier’s basically bare legs. “Don’t want you to catch something.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier smiled, smoothing the coat across his lap. “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah,” Geralt sighed. “Don’t mention it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thankfully, when they got to the theater, it wasn’t horribly crowded, and Jaskier gave Geralt his coat back so they could book it into the building. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look at this!” Jaskier picked up a fallen rose from the bush just outside the theater. “It’s so pretty.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt smiled, taking the rose and inspecting it for thorns. When he deemedit safe, he tucked it carefully behind Jaskier’s ear. The pink of the flower complimented the pink of Jaskier’s sweater, and Geralt hummed his approval. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s go,” he grumbled, still smiling. “Don’t want to be late.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, sprawled out in the backseat of the car. “Are we there yet?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Geralt and Ciri said at the same time, equally annoyed with how often Jaskier was complaining. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier sighed. This was going to be his first winter break at Geralt’s family home, and to say he was excited was an understatement and a half. Of course, he hadn’t expected the house to be this far up into the mountains. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How much longer?” He asked, fiddling with his necklace. It was gold and delicate, with metal dandelions, buttercups, and roses. A gift from Geralt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Only twenty minutes,” Geralt promised.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Twenty minutes ended up being forty, but Jaskier drifted off to nap, so he didn’t really know. When Ciri woke him up, he just grumbled and rubbed his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Welcome to Kaer Morhen,” Geralt said, gesturing to the building. “It may not be much, but it’s home.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ciri eagerly ran inside, already knowing her way around. “Vesemir!” She said happily, throwing herself into a man who had come to greet them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir smiled, hugging Ciri. “Hello little lion cub.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt nodded to his father, who nodded back. “And you brought that wonderful boyfriend of yours,” he said, shaking Jaskier’s hand. “I’m Geralt’s father, Vesemir.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is anyone else home?” Geralt asked, hands in his pockets and face turning red. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir chuckled. “Eskel and Lambert went out for groceries,” he said, leading the little family into the house. “But Roach is here.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roach ambled over, her mouth open in a happy grin. Jaskier blinked at her sheer size. “Holy cow,” he whispered. “You never said she was that big.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt had told him about his dog, too big to live with them in their apartment. But Jaskier had always envisioned a German Shepard or something. Not a Great Dane. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She’s a sweetheart,” Geralt said, bending to let Roach kiss him. “Isn’t that right?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roach boofed, trotting over to the lit fireplace and laying on a truly massive dog bed. Geralt smiled. “Yeah. A sweetheart.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It took another half hour for Eskel and Lambert to come back, but when they did, it was chaos. The three brothers all wrestled, which was just how they showed affection, while Jaskier and Ciri watched from the couch, truly bewildered by the display of love. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Musician!” Lambert said happily, extracting himself from the wrestle pile. “And the lion cub returns!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hugged Jaskier and tucked Ciri up to his side, ruffling her hair and grinning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eskel greeted them in a much gentler fashion, with a handshake for Jaskier and a hug for Ciri. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright,” Vesemir said from the kitchen. “If we want to eat dinner at a reasonable hour, we must start now. Boys, can you please make the dining room presentable? Jaskier, Ciri, with me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The trio of brothers trailed off to clear the dining room, leaving a nervous Jaskier and a bewildered Ciri behind to follow Vesemir into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier,” Vesemir said as soon as they were out of earshot of the dining room. “I presume you received my email?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah,” Jaskier nodded. “Thanks for helping me out.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ciri looked back and forth between them. “What’s going on?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier pulled a small box out of his pocket, watching Ciri’s eyes widen. The ring inside was gorgeous. It was a thicker, blacker metal with a precious blue gem in the center and his family crest of a roaring wolf on either side of the jewel. “He’s made me so happy for the past two years, and now I want to return the favor.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh Jask,” Ciri breathed. “It’s gorgeous.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you,” Jaskier murmured. “I picked it myself. Had to ask all three of Geralt’s family members before I found anyone who knew his ring size.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who knew it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier sighed. “Yennifer.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir gestured them both over. “So, here’s the plan,” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That night, Vesemir brought dinner in, smiling. “Eat up.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier hesitantly straightened his ‘old and tired but down to day drink’ shirt. He probably should’ve changed out of it, but dinner had taken longer than expected, and now Jaskier had to propose in a shitty shirt and golden accented black sweatpants. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After dinner came dessert, and with dessert came a spike in Jaskier’s nerves. He fiddled with his fork, turning it over and over and huffing when Ciri nudged him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright,” Vesemir said from the doorway. “Ciri and Jaskier made dessert, so y’all better enjoy it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The small mini pies were passed around, everyone getting one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay who the fuck decided mine wouldn’t have any filling?” Geralt looked down at his empty pie. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier stood. “Ah, right, that was the test pie to make sure the crust came out right. Let me just,” he ducked off into the kitchen to grab the last pie. Carefully arranging the ring on top, he brought the pie out, noticing that Eskel had his phone up, recording the whole thing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um,” Jaskier stumbled over his words. Why now, of all times, must he lose his ability to speak in full sentences. “Geralt?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt looked over, seeing Jaskier, red as a tomato. “Yes?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” Jaskier took a deep breath. “I’ve loved you for two years now. And for those two years you’ve loved me, and taken care of me, and spoiled me beyond belief, and put up with my ridiculous sense of fashion. And I want you to do that forever. Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">forever </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">forever. What I’m trying to say, really asking you is more what I’m doing, but,” he dropped to one knee, holding the pie out in front of him. “Will you marry me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The dining room was dead silent. For a minute, emotions waged war on Geralt’s face, and anxiety roared in Jaskier’s stomach. Just when it seemed like Geralt was going to say no, </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You had to do this now?” Geralt asked. “Of all times, now?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then he dropped to Jaskier’s level, on both knees. He fumbled with a small black box in his pocket and opened it, revealing the matching ring to the one Jaskier was presenting. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my god!” Jaskier forgot all about the pie in his hands and launched himself into Geralt’s arms. Lambert, thankfully, caught the abandoned pie and set it on the table. “Babe!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt smiled, burying himself into Jaskier’s shoulder. “I was gonna propose after dinner, on the deck.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier took the ring box and looked at the ring. He’d seen it online, and decided that if Geralt said yes, he’d get it for himself. “How’d you know?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ciri smirked from the corner. “Double agent. I knew this whole time. Found the ring site up in your laptop when I had to borrow it, and so when Dad came at me for advice, I knew exactly what to lead him to.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier was too happy to be overly dramatic about her betrayal, and he carefully took the ring out of the box and slid it onto his ring finger. A perfect fit. The ring was technically a women’s ring, but the style just screamed ‘Jaskier.’ It was silver, a twisted metal that looked like many flower stems braided together. Tiny flowers sat on the ring, all surrounding the beautiful blue gemstone that perfectly matched what Jaskier had picked for Geralt’s ring. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait,” Jaskier examined the ring closely. “I thought the flowers were roses!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt shrugged. “I asked if they could do dandelions instead, because of your name.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier teared up. “Babe,” he cried softly. “That’s so sweet.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got my crest,” Geralt reminded.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“True,” Jaskier murmured, running his finger over the ring. “Does yours fit?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eskel passed over the second ring, and Geralt put it on. “Perfect,” he hummed, leaning forward and kissing Jaskier tenderly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just when all seemed too good to be true, Lambert groaned. “Get a room, lovebirds!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt growled, scooping Jaskier up and grinning a near feral grin. “Fine.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Needless to say, they didn’t get much sleep that night. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt says Fuck Gender Roles in 8 new short stories! </p><p>Set about a year after the first chapter.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ah! Go check out the art that I’m late seeing! It’s on Silvipeppers Tumblr and it’s all pure gold! Go show the post some love! </p><p>https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/silvipeppers/630254192057024512</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Oh for fucks sake!” Jaskier yelled, taking an old sweater out of the laundry. “Dammit!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What?” Geralt peered around the corner, hoping Jaskier hadn’t tossed anything horribly colorful in with his white scrubs. Again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier sadly held out the remnants of a sweater, the bottom half missing. “It came undone in the wash.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Give it here,” Geralt held his hand out, and Jaskier deposited the warm mustard and deep red sweater into his hands. “If anyone can find you a replacement, it’s Yenn. I’ll show her when I go out on Saturday.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You’re a lifesaver!” Jaskier called at Geralt’s retreating back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I know.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Two days later, Geralt was out for his monthly Starbucks lunch with Yennefer. They tried to coordinate for weekends, so neither of them had any scheduled work hours. That, of course, wasn’t always foolproof, and they had to rush off to work in the middle of their outing. But not this time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“That’s a look,” Yenn said, looking him up and down. “I like it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt looked down. This late in the summer, the weather was starting to cool, meaning the horribly disfigured sweater and his favorite ripped black jeans were appropriate. “It’s Jask’s,” he explained, sitting down. “He was really upset that the sweater unraveled in the wash. Can you find him another?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Yenn dramatically rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Give me twenty four hours. Although, you look quite handsome in the ruined version, I must say.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Seven hours later, as Geralt pulled into his driveway, Yenn texted him the link to the sweater. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Damn witch,” he mumbled, pocketing his phone and fumbling with his keys. After the engagement, he and Jaskier had moved into a new condo, and Geralt was still figuring out the keys. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m home!” He called, dropping his keys onto the small desk by the front door and kicking his shoes off. “Ciri? Jask?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Shh!” A playful hiss came from upstairs, and Geralt smiled. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What are you two imps doing up here?” He asked, climbing the stairs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Upon meeting Jaskier’s eyes, Geralt immediately felt his chest swell with varying emotions. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Firstly, Ciri’s hair was bright pink. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Secondly, they were watching the Mandalorian without him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Thirdly, Jaskier was wearing Geralt’s shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You bitch!” Jaskier spoke first, jumping to his feet. “That’s my sweater!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt paused, running his hands over the soft knit. “Not anymore, you traitor.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hush up and sit still you big baby!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt winced as Jaskier burnt the shell of his ear yet again. “Jask, maybe I should-“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Nope,” Jaskier waved the flat iron around carelessly, causing Geralt to duck out of precaution. “You wanted your hair done, and therefore, you will put a sock in it until I’m done.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Jaskier!” Geralt grabbed his fiancé’s wrist. “Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier froze, relinquishing control of the flat iron over to Geralt, who expertly began to flatten out his natural waves. “When did you get good at this?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Six years ago.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt loosely gestured to a binder of photos that was sitting out on the floor. “That first photo was the first time I straightened my hair.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier cracked the old blue binder open, immediately smiling. “That was not you!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah it was,” Geralt examined his hair, running the flat iron over a particular spot once more. He knew what picture Jaskier was looking at. The one of him at a Halloween party from his pre-paramedic days. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Please tell me you still have that shirt!” Jaskier said eagerly, fingers moving over the glossy surface of the photo. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I should.” Geralt could picture it firmly in his mind. The worn out sneakers, the black leotard he’d borrowed from Yennefer on a dare, the sheer pink shirt that said ‘The boobs are real, the smile is fake.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m finding that,” Jaskier decided, snapping the binder shut. “And I’m borrowing this.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I don’t mind,” Geralt promised, putting the flat iron down. “But come here and finish the job you were so desperately keen on doing in the first place.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier eagerly jumped up and stood behind Geralt, running his fingers through his ice white hair. “Goddamn I love your hair.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Thanks,” Geralt said, picking at his nails. “Remind me later to tell you the story of how I almost got rid of it all.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t have!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt simply smiled. “You didn’t know me in college,” was all he said in return.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">True to his word, Geralt told Jaskier and Ciri his story over dinner the next day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It was mostly an accident,” Geralt said, stabbing a green bean. “Yenn was really the only reason I didn’t cut it all off. If she hadn’t been there, it would’ve been a disaster.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Well, okay,” Ciri said. “Tell us the whole story!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt smiled. “It was seven years ago,” he began. “Yenn and I were in college together, and she wanted me to be her model for a photoshoot.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">Seven Years Ago</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yenn!” Geralt stumbled around the shitty college apartment his best friend was living in. “Yenn these are impossible!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Stop being a baby,” Yenn said, setting up her camera. “Those make your legs look great.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt grumbled, looking down at the soft pink knee high boots. Truthfully, the heel wasn’t huge, maybe two inches, but it still made him feel horribly off balance. “Still wish I could’ve worn, oh y’know, pants.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Yenn simply tsked, handing Geralt a chunk of unchewed pink gum. “Here you go. After this, we can have a break, okay?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Finally.” Geralt sat down, hoping he didn’t flash Yenn in the process. He actually liked the shirt, all pastel teals and pinks and spots of shimmering silver, but he would’ve definitely preferred it with a pair of pants. He slid a chunk of his waist length hair across his shoulder, chewing absently on the gum. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Once the gum was properly chewed up in Geralt’s mouth, Yenn directed him to her makeshift photography studio. “You know the pose,” she said, crouching in front of her camera. “Three, two, one!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt popped up on the balls of his feet, arching himself backwards and blowing quite the bubblegum bubble. In that instant, he was glad Vesemir had insisted on gymnastics lessons for him as a child. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The click of the camera signaled Geralt to get down, and he immediately flopped to the floor, his back aching. “Jesus Yenn,” he mumbled, staring at the ceiling. “Tell me we’re done with that one.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah,” Yenn examined her camera. “Yeah I got it.” She looked up, vibrant eyes widening. “Hey, G. Where the gum?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt sat up quickly, realizing he no longer felt the gum in his mouth. “Oh fuck.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh fuck indeed,” Yenn walked around Geralt and winced. “You may have laid in it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yenn!” Geralt practically whined, whipping around and feeling his hair stick to his back. “What the fuck am I gonna do?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Yenn hauled him to his feet and sat him at her little vanity. “Sit still,” she directed firmly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She walked off, humming to herself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt shuffled his feet, shoulders heavy. He traced the dots on his shirt, trying to bring himself some comfort. His hair was a security blanket, and he had no idea how much of it was coated in gum. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Alright.” Yenn came back, wielding her sharp kitchen shears. “Sit very, very still.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Huffing, Geralt did as told, straightening his back and staying still as a statue. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Thank you,” Yenn mumbled, mostly to herself. “Ready?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Shut up and do it already.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Yenn snorted, and began to work. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” she consoled, rubbing Geralt’s shoulder. “It’s still longer than average.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He sighed. “Twelve years of growth,” he grumbled. “Down the drain.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“In the trash can, actually,” Yenn said, tossing the gum coated chunk of hair into the trash. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah, thanks for that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Shut up, you still look good,” Yenn promised, taking a pink hair tie and tying back part of Geralt’s hair. “Now, one more photo, and then I’ll spring you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt stood, missing the swish of hair across his back. But it still weighed on his shoulders, so maybe he was being a bit overdramatic. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Yenn directed him through the photo again, and smiled when he stood back up straight, the gum still in his mouth this time. “Perfection.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She sent him back to his own building that night with two print outs. One of his before photo, and one of his after. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He tacked them to the wall above his desk, smiling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">As he lay down to sleep, he stared at the photos. Rolling over, he decided that maybe he should take risks more often.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yennefer!” Jaskier happily hugged Yenn as they walked into her house. “It’s been too long darling!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You saw me last week,” Yenn pointed out, hugging Jaskier all the same. “And Geralt, good to see you in one piece. After last night, I didn’t think you’d have the energy to make it home.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt and Jaskier were only visiting on their off days because Yenn had needed models for her photography. She’d deemed them perfect, and immediately told them they had no choice in the matter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Here you are.” she handed Jaskier a stack of colorful clothes. “And for you.” she passed Geralt a stack that was less colorful and more leather. “Go get changed.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Thankfully, they could share Yenn’s bathroom, and they did. Jaskier came out looking like a very fashion forward rainbow in a beautiful 50’s style dress, petticoat and all. Geralt came out with an equal amount of confidence, carrying his shoes because he knew exactly what those hellspawn shoes would feel like on his feet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Well don’t you two look charming!” Yenn said happily, examining her two models. “G, if you don’t keep that skirt and wear it out more often, I may cry.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Fuck may,” Jaskier said happily. “I’ll definitely cry.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt smiled. He really did like this outfit, but Yenn always had good taste for her photoshoots. Right now, she’d put him in a leather mini skirt with a fun silver belt, a fine metal shirt that reminded him of very impractical chain mail, and a leather jacket. His boots, golden and pristine with four inch heels, were still off to the side. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Alright,” Yenn said, gesturing to a chair. “Sit! I’ll do your makeup.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier went first while Geralt zipped himself into his boots, humming and taking a few practice laps around the house. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Geralt!” Yenn called him out of the kitchen, and he clicked his way back to her and Jaskier. “Come sit, I haven’t got all day.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt sat, practically melting into a puddle of goo when Yenn began to brush his hair and pull it back with a golden scrunchie. She lined his ear with gold bobby pins and sighed when picking up a very nice pair of earrings. “Your ears wouldn’t happen to still be pierced, would they?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“They should be,” Geralt said, shrugging. “Just don’t stab me trying to open my holes back up if they did close.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Turns out, Geralt’s earring holes had survived, and Yenn managed to push the dangly silver and obsidian earrings into his ears. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Perfect,” she said, picking up her camera. “Now go get your fiancé and be unbearably sappy while I take pictures.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier smiled. “Come here,” he said, pulling on Geralt’s hand. “Your ass looks amazing in this skirt.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Thank you,” Geralt kissed Jaskier’s curled hair and put a hand firmly on his waist. “You look really good in this dress.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I know,” Jaskier said, kissing Geralt’s cheek and leaving a red lipstick mark. “Yenn said I could keep it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Lovebirds!” Yenn said, standing up straight. “Can you sit?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt sat down on the long white block, Jaskier sitting next to him. They shuffled through a few poses, until Jaskier was sat almost entirely in Geralt’s lap. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Well hey stranger,” Jaskier purred, tucking a loose strand of Geralt’s hair behind his ear. “Aren’t you handsome.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt laughed. “Sorry,” he said. “But I’m engaged.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier kissed Geralt, long and hard. “Well ain’t your fiancé just a lucky bastard,” he mumbled against Geralt’s lips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Yenn stood. “I’m done with you two,” she said, placing her camera down. “You’re free time go home.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt looked Jaskier up and down. “That dress isn’t surviving the night.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I didn’t expect it to.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt really wanted to have one night where he got home from a long shift and didn’t find his fiancé and his daughter making a hot mess. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Tonight, it seemed, was not that night. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He opened the door to screaming. Jaskier was whining and crying, and Ciri was laughing her ass off. Geralt sighed, putting his keys in their proper spot and walking up the stairs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier and Ciri were huddled in front of the TV, both dressed in absolutely ridiculous clothes. Jaskier was shaking, holding a game controller and swearing violently at the TV. Ciri was laughing, laying on her stomach on the couch and probably laughing at Jaskier. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What’s going on?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Immediately, Jaskier jumped, squeaking and standing. “Geralt your daughter is mean!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Mhm,” Geralt looked at the TV. “What are you making Jaskier play?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ciri took a breath, wiping tears from her eyes. “PT.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“She’s bullying me!” Jaskier accused, tossing the controller at Ciri. “Why don’t you play it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Already did,” Ciri said casually, handing Jaskier back the controller. “Dad, if you wanna join us, the required uniform is on your bed.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">For Jaskier’s sake, Geralt sighed and headed to his bedroom. Laying on the bed was a dress. It looked loose and flowy, but that wasn’t the issue Geralt had with it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It was cat print. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sighing, Geralt slid out of his scrubs and into the dress. It was softer than expected, and he put on the matching burgundy headband and brilliant red pasta print socks. It was a disaster outfit, rivaled only by the horror show Jaskier was wearing downstairs. Geralt was fairly certain he’d threatened to set the pair of pants Jaskier was wearing on fire at one point. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I hope you’re happy,” he said, coming downstairs and plopping Jaskier in his lap. “Did you find this when you went out with Madeleine?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yep!” Jaskier kissed Geralt’s cheek. “You look amazing.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“And you look like an active train wreck.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier gasped dramatically. “You dare insult these pants!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I dare,” Geralt said, nodding. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Fine,” Jaskier handed Geralt the controller. “You can play the horror game then.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt shrugged. “Whatever. It’s not that scary.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Needless to say, none of them slept at all that night. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Fuck.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Agreed.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt kicked a box out of the way, groaning. “Jaskier is going to kill me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Agreed, yet again.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You’re not helping!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Lambert shrugged. “You’re not paying me to help you,” he pointed out. “You’re paying me to paint your walls the wrong color.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt tossed his head back. He had originally planned on painting one wall in their living room a nice shade of periwinkle, which was Jaskier’s favorite color. Instead, he’d accidentally opened and used the vibrant pink paint he and Jaskier agreed to use on some of their kitchen chairs. Lambert, of course, hasn’t known the color he was meant to be painting the wall, so now half of one wall was pink. “Well, we can’t stop now.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hell yeah!” Lambert grabbed his paintbrush again. “Let’s finish this!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sighing, Geralt stripped out of his shirt and tossed it aside. He might as well keep going and pray that Jaskier didn’t get too upset. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Four hours later, Jaskier came home, finding Geralt sitting on the front step. “Oh lord, what did Lambert do?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Uh,” Geralt fiddled with the edge of his pink jacket that he was absolutely long-term borrowing from Eskel. “Well.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He guided Jaskier into the living room, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see Jaskier’s reaction. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah,” Geralt opened an eye. “You’re not mad, right?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Y’know what?” Jaskier said, looking around. “We get that fun looking yellow coffee table with the roses on it, and put a nice blanket on the couch, and this might work!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt sighed, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Oh thank god.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier smiled. “Yeah, you didn’t mess up too bad,” he promised. “But you do have paint on your face, so I’m not kissing you until you shower.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt pouted. “But-“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No buts!” Jaskier said firmly, pointing to the bathroom. “Go bathe!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Fine,” Geralt grinned and trailed off to shower, glad the day had worked itself out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Holy-“ Ciri clapped a hand over her mouth. “Permission to swear?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What the fuck?” Jaskier yelled beside her, looking up at his fiancé. “What the fuck, where were you hiding that?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ciri looked at Jaskier. “Holy shit!” She said eagerly. “You look drunk!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No,” Geralt corrected. “Jaskier looks drunk.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier gasped dramatically. Truthfully, he did a little bit, in a glittery rainbow disco ball of a vintage 20’s style dress. But still. “You’re not wearing pants!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So what?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier pouted. “That’s my butt! People are gonna be staring all night!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt smiled. They were attending a midnight party at a roller rink with a few of Geralt’s old college friends. The theme was ‘wild child’ and clearly, Geralt was adhering to the dress code. He had dug up an old rhinestone studded pair of pants that was essentially underwear, a gold leather jacket, and a silver cowboy hat. He was carrying a pair of gold cowboy boot roller-skates, and still had on the pastel blue band-aid on his knee from when he’d tripped and fallen the other day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I like it,” Geralt decided, turning around and causing Ciri to scream and cover her eyes. “You’re driving.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier, still in shock, nodded and grabbed his keys. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They had fun that night, chatting to old friends and falling over each other trying to roller-skate. Well, Jaskier tried not to trip. Geralt, on the other hand, was a damn natural in the gaudy cowboy skates. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hey baby,” some drunkard slurred, coming up behind Geralt when Jaskier stepped away to talk happily to Yennefer. “Wha’s up?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt stepped back, trying to get the creep to stop touching his ass. “I’m sorry,” he said, standing at his full height. “I’m engaged.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The man, despite being drunk as hell, decided that picking a fight with the 6 foot tall muscular man wearing no shirt was a bad idea, and he scurried off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Geralt!” Jaskier waved from across the room, and Geralt gladly skated over to him. “Who was that?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I don’t know,” Geralt shrugged, trying to shake the chill across his shoulders. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Jaskier’s smile persisted as he leaned close to Geralt and grabbed the collar of his jacket. “I will mark you up right here, in front of God and everybody. No one gets to touch my man.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt whimpered, knees going weak. “Sounds good,” he said softly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Decidedly pleased, Jaskier stepped back. “Alrighty! Yenn, darling, it’s almost three AM. While I would love to stay and chat, I need my beauty sleep. Geralt?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They walked out, Jaskier immediately shoving Geralt into the backseat and straddling his hips. “I hope you didn’t expect to get away that easily,” Jaskier purred, pushing Geralt’s jacket off. “You’ve been teasing me all night. It’s time to pay.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt whined, need making his eyes cloud. “Jaskier.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I know, doll. I know,” Jaskier said, sucking a mark on Geralt’s collarbone. “Lie back now, I’ll take good care of you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They didn’t make it home until five in the morning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Stay still!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You just stabbed me in the fucking eye!” Geralt argued, trying not to tear up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Yennefer simply sighed, putting the mascara wand away and stepping back. “You look great.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Do you think Jaskier will like it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I think Jaskier is going to love it.” Yenn gathered Geralt’s hair into a bun, tugging a few strands loose and grabbing her curling iron. “Where are you two going?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Dewey’s.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Yenn nodded. Geralt and Jaskier were going out one last time before their wedding day, before they couldn’t see each other for 24 hours. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Good choice,” she approved, grabbing a pink lipstick. “Pucker up.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">In the end, their date was a bust. Dewey’s was closed for repairs, so Jaskier, dressed to the nines in a beautiful flower embroidered black romper and his sheer black skirt, found them somewhere else to go. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Did Yenn dress you?” he asked as they walked through the butterfly garden in the park. “You look good, but it’s got that pop of, y’know, her.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Actually,” Geralt patted his fluffy grey tulle skirt. “I picked it. Yenn just did my hair and face.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Really?” Jaskier smiled, running his hand over the dress material. “I love it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt grinned. Truthfully, he had worried about how the dress would fit him. The voluminous layers of glittery grey tulle were interesting, but with some adjusting from Yenn and the addition of hand sewed black straps on his shoulders, the dress looked incredibly nice. Geralt had paired it a pair of shoes he’d fell in love with online, black boots with silver accents and a chunky two inch heel. “I’m glad you like it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They walked for a while longer, enjoying each other’s presence. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Are you ready?” Jaskier asked as they reached the parking lot. Eskel and Lambert were waiting for Geralt in Eskel’s truck, and Madeline was waiting for Jaskier in her car. “Tomorrow is a big day.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Geralt gave Jaskier one last giant hug before they both became married men “I’ve been ready for two years.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>❤️🧡💛💚💙💜</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>❤️🧡💛💚💙💜</p></blockquote></div></div>
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